Dear Matteo, 32 Months Old

You give the best hugs. There’s really no contest.

There are people who hug well and those who don’t. Some people hug and pat (RIP Gramps). Some people side hug. Some people hug with limp arms (Courtney). Some people go for the neck strangle (Aunt Nina). All hugs are good but few are great. Probably the best person at hugs I know is a guy named Anders that I work with. He gives anyone a hug who wants one, and it’s a measured full body squeeze. It’s a gift.

Most women are huggers, to varying degrees of comfort, as that’s the American norm for women greeting women they know and men greeting women they know. Cheek kisses never made it across the Atlantic. A lot of men aren’t huggers by choice, but this is a mistake. Hugs are an expression of affection and respect. Everyone needs more of that.

You sir, put all 32 lbs of your weight into every hug you give. Even when I lift you in the air for a hug you seem to summon twice your weight to slam into my chest. When you hug you get your arms out wide and around. You squint your eyes and grin big. You smash your face into your recipient. Most important: You hold your squeeze and try to see just how much more you can try to crush. It’s a masculine hug because it’s about showing affection with your growing strength.

You’ve been the subject of a lot of hugs lately because you’re doing so well at being potty trained and generally listening. When you’re tired, you can go off a cliff into psycho-two-year-old-scream-mode, but aside from that you’re usually doing something deserving a hug or in a cuddly mood and initiate hugs almost as a form of “Hello!”

The real trick to all of this will be keeping the hugs up as you grow into a bigger guy. Hugs tend to fall off for a lot of young boys for a lot of reasons. My recommendation is to keep hugs on the regular with people you love and respect and they’ll always appreciate it. You’ll never get too big to hug your old man.

Love, Dad

Dear Eliza, 52 Months Old

You have been rolling in and out of a stutter in your speech these past months. It’s been tough to watch you hang on a word while the burst of words behind stack up in your mind. Fortunately, I think the emotional effect hits me harder that it does you at your age. You’ve recognized it happening, reciting “um” multiple times over.

Your Mom tagged along on a work trip to Sundance last month. We needed the general parenting break and Grandma VIcki delivered the heroics of multi-night childcare. (Thanks, Mom!) We were obviously excited to see you and Matteo when we came home. You were so excited to see us that you really couldn’t get your words out that night, and honestly that alarmed me. You came around and had an easier time communicating as we got back into a routine over the coming days, which was a relief.

Your Mom and I did our best to slow down how we spoke to you and each other (a tough task for me, as you know) and waited for you to take your time to talk when you wanted. That was a good exercise for us all. By slowing down we all looked at each other more and really focused instead of moving fast and getting distracted by the next thing or screen in front of us.

The irony of it all is that some days you have no stutter and those seem to be the days when you have some complaining to do. Particularly around dinner time, which may very well be your tipping point to nighttime crankiness, you start complaining about whatever glorious meal or fast Trader Joe’s cuisine is put in front of you. I don’t know how you got so picky with food and moreover how you got so opinionated. You’re a food critic who doesn’t like to eat much. This is a phase that needs to move along, sister.

To be clear, there’s nothing wrong with stuttering. My concern is that it’s one of those traits that can draw out some undesirable attention in formative years that we’d like to minimize for you. We are getting an appointment together for a speech therapist to help you and ensuring your teacher at school is keeping an eye out for any changes. We’re doing what I think good parents are supposed to do: act quickly on any potential challenges to ensure your maximum comfort and self-confidence in your own skin before you have the chance to question it. I’ll be curious to see how this plays out: a short episode, a season of life, or part of the whole show.

No matter the outcome, I’m always here to listen to what you have to say, no matter how long it takes to say it. Except for complaining about dinner. Let’s cut that out entirely.

Love, Dad

Dear Matteo, 31 Months Old

Are you familiar with a “trust fall”?

It’s an exercise in camaraderie, falling blindly backwards and trusting that a partner will catch you. You’ve been doing that a lot lately, but jumping forward off couches, stairs, chairs or any other sources of height and toward an unsuspecting parental target. We often struggle to catch a limb and prevent injury.

Last week, you took a real leap of faith from the stairwell. I was at the bottom of it, communicating with your sister upstairs, behind you. Though you were directly in front of me, I didn’t expect the jump and didn’t react quickly enough to the blur of nudity flying at me. You bounced squarely off the center of my chest and nailed the floor. You looked up at me sad about the “owie” and disappointed by my lack of reflex. I think I looked back at you in shock like “WTF was that?” and “How did you expect me to make that catch?”

We then practiced counting off a jump to give your next victim a chance at making a save.

That scenario is a pretty good example of who you are at this stage: Naked and unafraid.

You’re mostly naked because you are potty trained. Hooray! Your Mom and I took a long weekend trip to Park City and my mom, Grandma Vicki, took care of you and Eliza. You were on the cusp of potty training before we left and Grandma got the job done. To ensure you keep the momentum, we keep you naked or at least bottomless and you seem to make it to the bathroom whenever nature calls. The nudity is a little cruel in the middle of winter, but all is fair in love and potty training.

You’re into all the “boy stuff” right now like wrestling, trucks and drinking beer. Kidding. We don’t let you drink beer. But you can bring me one from the fridge. Thank you.

You’re also into puzzles and have a real vision for seeing how the pieces fit. We are working on a 200-piece puzzle for ages 6+ and you’re getting pieces to fit as quickly as your Mom and me. We started you on some extra-large, 25-piece floor puzzles and you memorized them after a week so we moved you up to the smaller-piece table puzzles. You are crushing it. You celebrate every time you can get a piece to fit. You seem less impressed when the puzzle is complete. I get it. The small wins can be more important than completing the big job.

Life will throw you some puzzles and you’re building the skill set and patience to manage through them. Mom and I will keep getting you bigger puzzles. too.

Love, Dad

Dear Eliza, 51 Months Old

We finally got our first snow of the winter in the lowlands. It wasn’t much, just a dusting and enough to play in for a half hour before the green of the grass reappeared. The winter has been off to a slow start. That’s climate change for you. I hoped we’d ski at least twice as much by now. We’ve had storms in the mountains the past week, so I’m sure this upcoming MLK holiday weekend will yield some good ski days so you can get more practice in!

Your Mom is unimpressed by the snow and has suggested we should live some place that gets real snow. I’ve reacted by going on a mountain cabin hunt online. That’s a next goal for our family: the second home. That’s a real perk but one that we can share with friends and family and get some financial kickback via the advent of home-sharing (renting) services like VRBO and Airbnb. This sharing economy is a big deal right now and will probably be standard fare or perhaps archaic by the time you read this. Back to the point, a place we can go to for sure snow to escape our otherwise rainy winter closer at sea level is the big idea.

I’m not sure you’re as driven by skiing as I am, given you only show about 10 percent the excitement you show for dance classes. Your Mom just signed you up for your first class and according to her “over-excitement” would be an understatement for your enthusiasm. Your Mom said that if she signed you up for these classes, you would also have to sign up for a sport. You replied that dance is a sport. Checkmate. Well played. Aunt Nina would be proud.

Because of these snow dustings, I’ve being going in late to work and have had a chance to take you to school. We always listen to Maggie Rogers at your request. You came home from school with a new word, “cock.” As in someone called you a cock and explained that “it’s the name for a boy chicken.” While I appreciate the accuracy of the definition, I don’t think it tracks with the usual alternate definition and sentiment. To think we’re paying to send you to a private school and you’re getting this kind of language exposure in pre-K! Actually, it’s exactly what I expect. In my own private school experience I found that the privileged kids were always ahead the curve on language and vices. Wealth affords access, good and bad.

Hopefully your Mom and I can provide you a comfortable upbringing with easy access to snow, maybe a mountain cabin, and infinite dance classes. That’s going to be a privileged way to live and my hope is that you decide to be one of the good kids. I bet you’ll make the right call.

Love, Dad

Dear Matteo, 30 Months Old

I’m glad you are feeling better. You spent most of the Christmas week with a fever that knocked you down but not entirely out. You adapted to the fever in a funny way, stripping down to your pull-up or completely naked and standing in front of a cadet heater in the dining area. I guess that was your way of regulating your body temperature.

Of course, opening presents and new toys were the best medicine. The adrenaline of it all healed you in the heat of the moment. You now have three Buzz Lightyear and two Woody action figures and often take inventory to know where they are at all times. You were also excited to receive a monster truck and toy tool set. You were less enthusiastic about the robotic bunny (matching your sister’s more popular robotic elephant) and Pogo bungee stick (not sure how else to explain that one). Parent lesson learned: Stick to obvious boy stuff.

We saw a lot of family as well. We video chatted with Grammie, Popa, Uncle Ty, Aunt Amber and your cousins Abby and Mason in Indiana a couple of times. You felt better by the time your cousins Winnie and Harry visited for the weekend after Christmas. You all ran circles around our house with new toys, requiring minimal parent intervention. Thanks for that Christmas present.

That didn’t minimize the “Hey Dad” salvos. You say “Hey Dad” five to seven times as a conversation initiation. It’s a way that you get my attention and buy time to form your words. On days I’m not in the office, you probably say “Hey Dad” 200-300 times. Add that to a multiple of “Hey Moms.” That math works out to you talking to us nearly all waking hours, which is 100% true. You have a lot to say. You command attention. You’re a natural-born leader.

Now you have a lifetime ahead to learn what many leaders struggle with: listening. We’ve been working on that, too. Your Mom often asks that you look at her in the eyes when you’re talking or listening to make sure you’re fully engaged and not just making or taking in noise. Sometimes you raise a Jack Nicholson-eye brow at us or furrow your brows depending on your mood.

Another way you express leadership is by grabbing my hand and pulling me toward where you want you want to play. If I don’t budge you really throw your weight into it. I rather prefer your “kind voice” when you say, “Hey Dad, do you want to play ball with me?” With that approach, you get an enthusiastic “yes” every time.

Love, Dad